unsolicited testimonial (tm)

I've spent the week-plus since my back throwage alternately trying to keep my workload from turning into a merciless behemoth crushing me beneath it's hoary hooves, and looking for a chair. By 'chair' I mean something to sit upon while working at my computer (which I do for the majority of hours of most days), without said chair causing the throwage to get worse and/or recur. I'd narrowed down my choices sufficiently to go out and shop, which I did today, and I'm happy to report that we have a winner:

It's called the Swopper. It's bouncy and sway-y, and it makes you sit with your back straight and your legs at approximately 135° to your torso, like so:



Now, I have a little experience with a variant of this posture, from sitting on a meditation cushion in a previous life, and I was sort of skeptical that it would be comfy for any length of time, but then I went and sat on one of these babies, in the flesh.

Sold.

Well, almost. They cost $600 (USD) retail. A small price to pay to keep my spine from disintegrating, but ouch. So I thought I'd surf around and see if I could find a screaming internet deal. The final price I'll end up paying lies somewhere near the intersection of my back pain and my parsimony. Stay tuned...

death as motivator

A few days ago I did what I think is commonly called 'throwing one's back out' amongst the geezetariat -- I bent down to feed the cats and something just above my ass went 'ouch' and hasn't stopped. So, since lying down doesn't hurt, I've been working in bed with my laptop. Actually, I lie: I'm sitting at the desk right now, after a couple of days of lying down on the job - LYING DOWN ON THE JOB! get it? get it? I slay myself.

As for The Book, I seem to be stuck in getting the beginning 'absolutely perfect,' probably to avoid getting into the belly of the beast, which needs the most work. Plus, The Job (tm) is still busy as hell, and I've had a few bouts of wondering if I'm ever really, finally, for real going to finish the fucking Book. Like, before I bend over one day and can't stand back up, FOREVER. The thought of some future anthropologist finding my mummified corpse next to an unfinished manuscript fills me with dread.

Mortality sucks.

recession? what recession?

I've been waiting for my Real Job (tm) to slow down so that I can spend more time on The Book, and it just ain't happening. I'm finding an hour here and there to work on it, and it just doesn't feel like enough.